ABSTRACT
He was losing weight—not continuously but periodically. At age seventy-five and 6 foot 3 inches, he was only 153 pounds. The Merck Manual, which he had taken to consulting, gave the normal weight range for his height as 153 to 192 pounds. He was technically within the normal range. But he had become un-American in his thinness. He would look at himself in the mirror and see the strong outline of his ribcage, his legs as long strings, and his face as gaunt and angular. He had the long mournful face of a basset hound, increasingly resembling his mother who had died at age 101. He consumed vast amounts of food, but his metabolism refused to convert it to additional weight. Not a single commercial on TV told him how to gain weight. Since obesity is the American plague, there was little commercial interest in helping people to gain weight. Everyone suggested milk shakes, rich cookies and cakes, meals of meat and potatoes, but he was of an age when his body could be threatened by high cholesterol and high blood pressure. The fates that controlled his body had him coming and going. After every significant weight loss he submitted himself to X-rays, CAT scans, and MRIs hoping not to find a reason in the results of the tests, and his hopes were realized.
